


you set the other on fire

by natromanoffs



Category: Seinfeld
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:33:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28661031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natromanoffs/pseuds/natromanoffs
Summary: takes place between 2x09 and 2x10.Elaine and Jerry have agreed to have an all-inclusive relationship, but Elaine's having doubts.
Relationships: Elaine Benes/Jerry Seinfeld
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	you set the other on fire

**Author's Note:**

> i've always found it bothersome how elaine and jerry go from having a relationship in 2x09 to being back to just friends in 2x10 with no explanation, so this is my take on what could've happened

After a week of _this, that, and the other_ , Elaine wakes up feeling resigned. She’s been struggling all week, mixed emotions running round her head, but they’ve settled now. As much as she wants this, as much as she wants all of him, she realizes now that that isn’t going to happen.

He’s lying beside her in his bed, mouth hanging open and breaths coming heavy. He looks peaceful when he sleeps. She’s always thought that. Seeing him asleep, guard completely down, has always awakened a little softness within her. Now, though, seeing him like this mostly just makes her sad, because she knows this is the last time they’re going to be sharing a bed like this.

It’s happened before, _the last time_. But, when they had broken up before, she hadn’t seen it coming, not really, hadn’t been able to predict it. She hadn’t known which night was their last, which shared shower would be the final one. When they had broken up, it had made sense, it had been a culmination of many things and they had _both_ agreed they’d be better off as friends.

And yet, somehow, here they were again. It hadn’t been on purpose, the beginning of this, they’d just been sharing a couch, porn on the TV, and yeah, Elaine was horny, Jerry was there, what was she supposed to do? They’d made rules, drew lines, so that things could work, they could be friends and add those benefits without getting feelings all tangled in. But. She’d wanted him to stay the night, rules be damned. And when he’d leaned down to kiss her goodnight, she stopped him, per the rules, but something caught in her throat then.

She wanted all of him, couldn’t separate it out. But he _hadn’t_. He hadn’t wanted _the other_. Her heart was breaking, though, a little, a couple spindly cracks that she could tell would end up spreading out like a terribly cracked windshield, so she’d called for a stop to all of it. And it was only then, only when she’d suggested leaving all of it behind, their friendship included, that Jerry agreed to having an all-inclusive relationship with her.

She should’ve known then that this couldn’t last. She’s not quite sure, now, if the problem between them is that he doesn’t quite want this or if the problem is her knowing he doesn’t quite want this, but whatever it is it’s giving her pause.

All of a sudden, he’s awake, running a hand through his messy hair and rubbing sleep from his bleary eyes, and the words are out before she can stop them-

“We should call it.”

“Hm?” he says, and she can see the wheels turning in his head, can see his sleep fogged brain struggling to decipher her words.

“We should call it off.”

She watches as it clicks, sees his eyes widen as he realizes.

“Call what off?” he asks. “The- The _romance_ part” --

The way he exaggerates the word romance, the way he can’t even take the word seriously confirms all of her doubts.

“Or--” he continues, “or all of it?”

She looks at him, a calm stone in contrast to his wide-eyed flickering confusion. She sort of relishes the fact that he’s the one on the spot, that she’s already prepared, that he won’t get to see her feel in real-time. 

“Do you mean..” he’s scrambling now, “you don’t wanna be friends at all anymore?”

His voice breaks a little on that last bit, and suddenly seeing him feel in real-time isn’t what it’s cracked up to be, and suddenly her stomach’s dropping too. If nothing else, he values the friendship they have to a level she can’t quite comprehend.

“No, no,” she says. “Just, _this_. No more _this, that, and the other_. Let’s just go back to how it was. We broke up for a reason, after all.”

She’s not even sure she knows that reason was anymore, but Jerry’s nodding like this all makes sense.

“As long as we stay friends,” he says.

“Yeah,” she says. 

“Okay,” he says shrugging, and she can’t quite read him, can’t tell if he’s relieved or hurt or a bit of both.

“Alright, well, I guess I should go,” she says. “See you later?”

He nods.

The sunlight is spilling through the window, and it lights him up golden as she leaves him. 

She grabs her clothes from the side of his bed and goes out into the living room to change. She almost chokes on her spit when she looks down and realizes she broke up with him while wearing his shirt. She throws her clothes on as fast as possible, chucks his shirt to the floor, and leaves, making sure to close the door softly behind her.

She can’t have him thinking she’s storming out, can’t have him thinking she’s mad, because she isn’t. She’s not quite sure what she’s feeling, but thinks it’s sadness, if anything. It’s a terrible position, to be the one breaking up with someone AND be the one hurting. Somehow, she’s taken on both terrible roles and the combination of the two makes her head pound.

She walks down the street with a false sense of purpose, tries to project an air of confidence and self-sufficiency, though she can tell it’s falling flat. None of these strangers believe she’s okay. Exasperated, she runs her hands through her hair, takes it out of its ponytail. She remembers, then, Jerry always saying she looked cute with her hair down, and quickly puts it back up and tries to ignore the little lump that’s appeared in her throat.

Elaine avoids him for two full days. She doesn’t want to. She wants nothing more than to go to his apartment the next day, wants nothing more to sit and watch TV with him and pretend they’re friends like normal just to make this strange feeling go away. She knows, though, that when you break up with someone you can’t just go running immediately back, whether you’re staying friends or otherwise, so she stays away. Goes to work, eats dinner alone, tries not to hear Jerry’s sarcastic comments in her head when she watches TV.

After two days, though, she calls it quits, gives it up. If they’re going to be friends again they might as well start now, and as the breaker-upper she thinks she has all the right to decide when they should reconvene. She picks a time when she knows George will be there, and when she shows up at Jerry’s apartment it’s like nothing’s changed. He doesn’t even flinch when he sees her, and she’s a little offended, but she tucks that away and pretends that she’s handling things just as perfectly as he is. The three of them fall into familiar patterns, playing board games and watching TV and drinking terrible beer and making fun of each other. It’s a great night, as is the next one, as are all the ones where she and Jerry are friends.

It’s nice, she supposes, to have everything back to normal. She knows how they fit, knows that they are _just friends_ with no _that_ attached, _the other_ all but forgotten, and that’s just how they work. It’s reassuring, or comforting, or, well, it’s neither of those but it’s something else she can’t name to know there’s no possibility of romance in the future, to know that friendship is where they’re firmly settled.

So no more looking at him a little too long and wondering, no more staying up late just the two of them and sitting a little too close on the couch, no more secret comments about the old days and the things they used to get up to.

It’s not that she’s unhappy with their friendship. She’s not. He’s probably the most important person in the world to her. But he was her _everything_ once, to the point where she even wondered on a few chance occasions if he would be her _future_ , her _forever_. In a way, he will be. She doesn’t see this friendship falling apart anytime soon. It’s just that she’s not quite sure how to deal with these feelings she can’t name, this longing that never quite finds a home but that focuses on him more than anyone else, this whirlwind past and fantasized future that clash with their present. How can she reconcile all of that? How can she break up with him but hers is the only heart that gets broken? How can she be his best friend when she can’t let go of _the other?_


End file.
